


One More Hour

by Rageycakes



Category: Cassandra Palmer Series - Karen Chance
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 03:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rageycakes/pseuds/Rageycakes
Summary: Cassie chased Pritkin's soul through time but couldn't save him. Now she just needs to figure out how to let him go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My bad. This is honestly an angsty mess. There is no happy ending here folks, just an irredeemable pain fest. Sorry?
> 
> Thanks to my super patient beta TerrusDaktellus! Honestly, this fic never would've happened without her. So blame her.

_"Cassie!"_

I jerked my head up, startling as I realized that someone had been calling my name, loudly and repeatedly, and met Marco's concerned and slightly frustrated gaze.

"Huh? What is it?" I sat up straighter and gave him my best innocent look. It worked about as well as it ever did.

"You were doing it again. Spacing out." His frustration seemed to lose its edge then and he sighed, looking pained suddenly. "Look, I know you're going through some shit right now. I get it. Or, I would, if only you'd talk to me about it. But you don't. You sit here day in and day out, and when you're not out risking your neck on some insane mission, you just mope around here looking like a kicked puppy." He looked at me expectantly, bushy eyebrows raised.

I fixed my eyes on the pool table in the corner, suddenly captivated by a game some of my other vamp guards had going. "I don't–"

"No. Don't do that. Don't give me some cock-and-bull story. _Talk to me."_

And oh, how I wish I could. How I wished I could tell him that after weeks of chasing down Pritkin, first busting him out of his hell prison, then following his soul through seemingly a thousand years of his own history, I had failed. I'd lost. I'd lost _him_. His soul had passed through every year of his long life and I was always just _that far_ behind. Blocked at every turn by this or that stupid, pointless interruption and disaster. Until it was too late, and he'd blinked out of existence.

I'd fought what felt like a million battles over the last four months since that obituary had found its way onto my computer. I'd battled vamps and dark mages and psycho acolytes and freaking _gods_ and somehow, some way, I'd always managed to pull through. Kicking, screaming, and generally throwing a fit, I'd pulled through. I'd survived, and been victorious, even. My lucky streak had to end some time though, and this time it'd claimed my partner. Not just my partner, my friend. Someone who'd been hovering dangerously close to _family_ in my mind.

And, yeah, I'd lost a lot in the past. Pretty much everyone I'd ever considered family, and plenty of friend-types too. So I should be used to it by now, right? Only I wasn't apparently, because my fugue state hadn't gone unnoticed. And as desperately as I wanted, _needed_ to talk to someone about it, I just couldn't. Which was stupid, because why? To protect the secrets of a dead man? I shuddered as the now-familiar pang hit me right in the chest. He was dead.

_"Cassie!"_ Oh, right.

"Hmm? Oh, uh, it's really nothing. Just tired. What's on the agenda today?" I tried to sound perky and interested. He hesitated, brows furrowed.

"Nothing immediate that I'm aware of. You got Jonas coming tomorrow to talk setting up your new court, and Mircea called–"

"Great, I'm just going to go take a nap then." I stood and made a show of stretching and yawning.

"But you've only been up for–"

"Wake me up when the next disaster hits!" I shut the door with a finality that even Marco didn't argue with.

Not that he bothered to argue with me about much lately. In fact, no one seemed to want to ruffle my feathers. I was eternally grateful for the reprieve, but it was kind of strange. Everyone was walking on eggshells around me, handling me like some fragile, broken thing. Or like a bomb; something to be handled with extreme sensitivity so it doesn't level a city.

My rag-tag group of guards, usually so eager for intrigue and mischief, had become downright solemn. Mircea had found lots of work for himself in New York, and I suspected he was grateful for the reprieve as well. He hadn't been taking my change in mood well, and had been quite moody and irritable himself.

Rosier, of course, had blustered and yelled and loudly threatened to kill me, but he'd lost interest in even that and I hadn't seen him since. I knew what he was doing, because it was the same thing I was: mourning. For as much of an asshole as he was, as much of a shitty father as he'd been, it was plain enough that he'd had genuine love for his son. He wouldn't actually try to kill me, I knew, and not just because I was instrumental in keeping the gods out of our worlds. He wouldn't kill me because he'd sworn an oath not to. Of course, that didn't mean he wanted to be anywhere near me, and for that I didn't blame him. He was probably the only other person in this world or any other that was feeling the pain I was, but the trauma we'd shared ensured that there was no chance of our comforting each other. It'd only make it worse.

Billy-Joe knew, naturally, and he'd tried to help in his own way. He'd offered me perspective, he'd appealed to my more pragmatic nature, but at the end of the day it'd helped exactly not at all. I was going to continue to fight the good fight, because it needed to be fought and I was the best and only person to do it, but I knew with an aching certainty that I was more alone in this than I'd ever been before.

I sat cross-legged on my bed, fidgeting restlessly and looking around the suite for something else to occupy my mind. I thought about turning on the tv, and immediately dismissed the idea. I'd already taken a long bath when I woke up...I glanced at the display on my phone. Two hours ago. I heaved a sigh and drummed the fingers of my right hand on my knee. Screw it, I knew what I was going to do. What I'd been doing almost every day since I'd lost him. I gave the room another long sweep of my eyes, and gave up.

I shifted.


	2. Chapter 2

  
When this had started, I'd convinced myself that I just needed one last glance. I wasn't going to approach him, or allow myself to be seen by him or anyone else. I'd get a good look at him - my last - and say my silent good-bye. And, yes, my silent apology. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I failed you, when you never once failed me. I'm sorry you never had a chance, you never had a real life. I'm sorry I took everything from you and gave nothing in return. _I'm sorry I have to live a life without you in it. I'm sorry I'm so selfish, feeling sorry for myself when you're gone and it's my fault._ And that would be the end of it. I'd get my closure, for what it's worth, and go back to my gilded cage and my life of duty.

Of course, things had gone tits up and I'd managed to shift to the hallway outside his room just as he'd come barreling out, looking fit to be tied. Turns out I'd come back to the time immediately following his recovery from the trip we took to see my parents. It had taken some calming - and even more lying - on my part to talk him out of his fit, but we'd ended up having a picnic of gross health food while sitting cross-legged on his bed and chatting like old times. Well, not old to him.

And it'd been the best day of my life.

I knew even as I shifted back that first time that I'd be back. It was a heady thrill to see him alive again, like a drug. One that I was becoming more and more addicted to. Billy called me a glutton for punishment and a masochist. I thought he might be right.

"Back again so soon?" Pritkin didn't even bother to look up from the knife he was sharpening. He sat at the crappy table in his room, looking unbearably calm and collected. His face and tone said bored detachment, but his lips were twitching in amusement.

I positively _drank_ in the sight of him. He looked the exact same as last time, of course. If I'd timed this correctly I'd only been gone for a couple of hours by his count. But seeing him again drove the air from my lungs and lifted the weight of his loss from my psyche infinitesimally. The relief was dizzying.

I rolled my eyes and plopped down on the bed. "It's soon to you, but not to me. Remember?"

"Yes, I do." His eyes focused on mine then, and I saw suspicion and unease in them. "Why, exactly, have you come back? The last few times you've been here you've done nothing but...hang around. You're obviously not on a mission, and you don't seem to actually _need_ me for anything. So what's the purpose of these visits?"

I sighed heavily. "Ah, so we're back to this. I told you. I'm just taking a break. Stuff is stressful in my time, and it isn't here. It's that simple." I shrugged indifferently and avoided his eyes.

I felt his gaze on me for several moments while I distractedly picked an invisible piece of lint off my shoulder, and then he seemed to drop it. _Until next time_ , I thought with a wince. It was getting harder and harder to justify my presence here, and he knew it. Of course he did. I'd never been able to fool him. He had an uncanny ability to see through all of my bullshit, right from the very beginning. It made me wonder why he was indulging it now.

He cleared his throat then, startling me out of my contemplation. "Maybe you can tell me what's troubling you in your time, and I can help. This, what you're doing, is expending energy that you can't afford. Not if things are as stressful in your time as you claim."

"You know I can't tell you anything about the future. Anyway, it's fine. I'm fine." It was definitely time for a subject change. "Wanna play cards?"

He put his knife down on the table in front of him and looked back at me, eyebrow arched. I hated that. I especially hated the way my stomach flipped, and I felt heat rush to my face at the sight. _You can't be attracted to a dead man, Cassie_ , I reminded myself sternly. "Fine, but I'm not playing Egyptian Rat Screw again. That's a ridiculous name."

I smiled and pulled the deck out of my pocket.


	3. Chapter 3

  
When I popped back into my suite two hours later I had some company of the ghostly variety. I was pleasantly surprised by this, as I hadn't been seeing a whole lot of Billy-Joe lately. We both knew he didn't approve of my extra-curricular activities, but so far he'd been tactful and sympathetic enough to at least try to turn a blind eye to it, which meant he'd been spending a lot more time getting into shenanigans around the Vegas strip. At least, that's what I assumed he'd been up to. I only saw him when he showed up for the occasional draw. Right now he was hovering over my bed, the ever-present deck of cards splayed out before him, as insubstantial as everything else about him. The Stetson he'd died in was tilted back on his head, revealing the familiar furrowed brow and scruffy jawline as he glared at the cards in concentration.

"Hey!" I said brightly. "What's up? What's the news? What've you been up to?" The manic energy I always felt after a trip to see Pritkin seemed to be out in full force. I cringed a little at my lack of cool and decided I really needed to reign myself in. I plopped down on the bed next to him and tried to look casual and serene.

He adjusted his hat a few times and then brushed a hand over his jaw. "You went back to see him again, didn't you?" The accusatory tone he used was flat and he hadn't looked at me once since my arrival. Okay, so maybe he hadn't been glaring at the cards in concentration. I huffed out an irritated sigh.

"Billy -"

He cut me off. "What the _fuck_ Cassie? When are you going to stop doing this to yourself? What are you even getting out of this? He. Is. Dead." He finally met my eyes, and I was a little shocked by the anger I saw in them. There wasn't even a hint of the sympathy he'd previously shown me in that glare. I felt my temper begin to rise and stood up to face him, meeting glare for glare.

"I know that!" I hissed, trying but failing to keep my voice down. I didn't need my nosy vampire guard to know about my unsanctioned trips, but it seemed unlikely that they hadn't realized _something_ was up. Marco had proven that enough times, and none of them were stupid. I found myself caring less and less about what they knew. "It's not hurting the timeline, it's not changing anything, and it has exactly _nothing to do with you or anyone else_."

My anger seemed to burn out and I deflated suddenly. I sat back down on the bed, curling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. My elation at the time spent with Pritkin had faded quickly thanks to Billy's intervention, and the crash felt worse than an energy drain.

I ran my fingers through the knots in my hair and sighed miserably. "I'm trying to say good-bye, Billy. I just don't know how."

He pulled his hat off and scratched his head, staring at his boots. "I know, Cass. All of us - we're trying to give you time. But what you're doing is unhealthy. You need to let go. He - he wouldn't want this for you. You gotta know that."

"When did I ever do what he wanted?" I choked out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. Billy smiled anyway.

"More often than you think." We sat side-by-side, backs to the headboard for several minutes of silence. "Just...think about those girls for me, will you? You got a lot of people in the living world that are counting on you now. Don't neglect them."

And with that gentle admonishment, he floated out.

  
* * *

"So am I going to have any time at all to get anything done today, or are you just going to continue to pop in every few hours?" Pritkin's tone was mild enough, but I could sense the genuine curiosity behind the question. Again.

"Well hello to you, too." I held up my arms, laden with bags, and smiled widely. "Mexican food and beer!"

"You're going to make us both fat," He complained, but grabbed the bags from me and took them to the table to unpack. He popped open a beer using the heel of his palm and the edge of the already scuffed table and handed it to me.

I took a deep pull and eyed him speculatively. "Not likely, in your case. And I know very well that the other me is still upstairs recovering from foot trauma, thanks to you." I took the other seat at the table and smiled sweetly, batting my lashes. "You have nowhere else to be."

Pritkin quirked an eyebrow but didn't otherwise respond. He passed me a container full of cheesy goodness and I smelled it appreciatively. Carne asada nachos with habanero sauce and extra guac. _Yes_. I opened it and tucked in, humming happily. I lost myself in my meal for a few minutes, but looked up at Pritkin when I realized I hadn't heard any similarly happy noises coming from him.

He was staring at me openly, bottle of beer poised halfway to his lips, food container sitting open and ignored in front of him. He was watching my mouth again; something I was beginning to suspect he'd been in the habit of for quite some time before I'd finally caught on.

I remembered that night in the cafe now, that last night, when he'd tried so hard to tell me something, and felt heat rise to my cheeks. So stupid. I'd been so fucking stupid. If we'd had a few more minutes, if I hadn't wasted so much time deflecting and denying what I knew I... I felt the tell-tale burning pressure behind my eyes and looked down at my food again before I did something even more stupid, like cry.

"Cassie."

"This habanero sauce is amazing, wanna try?" I loaded up a nacho and proffered it to him, avoiding his eyes.

He reached out but didn't take my offering. Instead, he laid his hand gently on my unoccupied one. It was an oddly tender display for Pritkin, and entirely too much for me to handle. I snatched my hand away and grabbed my beer, taking three swift gulps.

"Cassie, look at me." His voice was low but steady.

I dumped the nacho back into its container and clumsily wiped at the grease on my hands with a napkin from the food bag. I took a deep breath and it caught, and I realized suddenly that I was crying. Tears were streaming down my face in wet messy tracks and I was crying, _crying_ , in front of Pritkin. No. No, no, no. If I cried in front of Pritkin, I would need to leave. Leave, and never come back. There was no coming back from that. He'd infer too much, and I wasn't sure I was a good enough liar to bluff my way through any explanation I could think up.

 _God, Billy-Joe was right_ , I thought fiercely. Today I'd pretended to care my way through a tedious meeting with Jonas, in which he'd called me out at least four times for not paying attention. Then, I'd hummed my way distractedly through a phone call with Mircea, and honestly couldn't remember a bit of it.

And I didn't care.

When was the last time I'd spent any significant amount of time with the girls in my court? When had I last had a nice talk with Rhea, or Tami? None of it seemed to matter. All I could think about all day was getting back here, seeing _him_ , smelling _him_ , touching _him_. This had gone too far.

I stood up in a rush, furiously wiping the back of my hand over one cheek, and then the other.

"I have to -"

In a move faster than my eyes could track he was out of his chair and his hand was back on mine, gripping it firmly this time. He stepped up close, barely inches away, and his eyes met mine in a kind of frenzied desperation.

And then he said something that made the floor drop away and stole the breath right from my lungs.

"I don't make it, do I?" He said this with a quiet calmness that belied the ferocity of the eyes that were still blazing green and so intensely focused on mine.

I was frozen completely rigid, wide-eyed and mouth gaping, but my mind was moving a thousand miles a minute. What could I tell him? I needed to take this back, to undo it, because who knew how much damage I'd just done? My thoughts were racing but none would coalesce into a coherent plan or even an intelligent 'huh?' Which was not okay at all because this was _not_ blind panic time, except that apparently it was.

Pritkin seemed to notice my distress - maybe it was the hyperventilating that clued him in - and he led me slowly to the bed, making vague soothing noises and squeezing my hand reassuringly. Which was absolutely ridiculous, because out of the two of us I was not the one that'd just been informed of my impending doom.

And that was it.

That absurd display of compassion for me, for _me_ , in the face of his own mortality...It was the last straw. He sat at the end of the bed and pulled me into his lap and I dissolved. The weight of my sorrow for him was an overwhelming, crippling force. One that I hadn't allowed myself to properly carry until now, when it was most inappropriate and most selfish. I buried my face in his neck and sobbed. For him and the life he'd never get to live, and for myself. For what I'd lost when I had failed to save him. _Him_ – the person I was only now beginning to realize was the one I wanted and needed more than anyone else.

I loved him.

The realization was both startling and completely obvious all at the same time.  
_Of course_ I loved him! The glowering and the snark and the stupid hair and the bravery and those beautiful green eyes that knew me better than any ever had. God, I'd wasted so much time. And of course I'd figure it out now, when there was nothing I could do but say good-bye.

Pritkin continued to hold me silently for a few minutes, rocking me gently. I felt his heartbeat under my cheek, steady and fierce as if in defiance of its numbered days. I hiccuped and pulled myself together enough to lift my head and look him in the eyes. He deserved at least that.

But he was looking at me with such sympathy and affection and concern, and something that I was beginning to identify as maybe love, that the words I'd been about to speak fell away, completely forgotten.

What could I say? You're dead, it's my fault, sorry? And hey, don't let that terrifying knowledge stop you from making any decisions you would've otherwise made if you didn't have a sword hanging over your head! Right. Nothing I could say would make either of us feel any better, and looking into his eyes, there was only one thing I wanted to do.

So I grabbed his face between my hands and kissed him.

Not soft and sweet and seductive, but hard and bruising and savage. I'd denied myself for too long and now I had no time left and damn it, I was going to dig my fingers into that ridiculous hair and pour myself and every desperate emotion I felt for him into that kiss, because I wasn't going to get any more.

All of my anger, and my love, and my sadness I unloaded onto him and he took it. His fingers were in my hair now too and then on my face, wiping away fresh tears, and he was making these urgent little noises in the back of his throat that were ramping up my desire to dangerous levels, until I was straddling him and making small grinding movements against him, and removing my hands from his hair to try to lift up the hem of his shirt.

He grabbed my wrists and held them against my hips, forcing them still, because of course we couldn't do anything, and I wasn't thinking clearly at all. I whimpered anyway.

Apparently I wasn't the only one unhappy with the loss of contact, because when I focused enough to get a proper look at Pritkin he was panting and looking more than a little wild-eyed. And definitely gobsmacked.

Which made a lot of sense, considering he didn't _actually_ have a direct line into my head and had no idea about my long-overdue epiphany.

Could I tell him? Would that be somehow unfair to him, or make it impossible for the timeline to remain unaffected? Had I already damaged it irreparably? Considering the lack of apocalyptic visions I was guessing not, but something like this could tip the scales. If it changed the way he made decisions in the future, I wouldn't be able to fix it.

I bit my lip and considered for a moment, and then decided I didn't fucking care.

“I love you.” His eyes widened and he released my wrists, and it seemed for once he didn't have a response ready so I continued. “I'm so sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that we won't ever get a chance. I'm sorry I failed you. I love you, so much. I just...wanted you to know that.”

We just stared at each other for a few beats, but whatever response I was expecting wasn't coming. His mouth was drawn in a grim line and he looked...cold. The body beneath me felt suddenly rigid and unyielding, and my heart skipped in my chest as panic set in. No, this was not how it was supposed to go!

I raised a hand back up to his face but he pushed it away. I opened my mouth to say – I don't know what – but he stopped me by unceremoniously dumping me on my ass as he stood up. I scrambled up to my feet, beginning to feel pretty peeved.

So, okay, maybe I'm not all that familiar with declarations of love, but I'm pretty sure this wasn't how you were supposed to respond to them. Shock met hurt and shame in my chest, mixing into a bitter taste that burned my throat.

“What the–?” I began, but he whirled on me in a rage, all the warmth in his eyes burned away and replaced by solid ice.

“I don't know who you are, or who you think you are, but if you are truly Cassie–”

“I _am_ , you idiot!”

“Then you need to leave. I don't know what you mean by coming back here and...but you need to go. Just go.” He turned around then, leaving me to face the impenetrable wall of his back and his utter dismissal.

So I shifted.


	4. Chapter 4

 

“You know, Cassie, I've been very impressed with your performance and dedication to your duties these past few weeks.” Jonas was looking down at me in that fondly patronizing way of his, and I just barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes.

“Uh, yeah, thanks.”

“I admit I was worried for a bit there, after...but you bounced back admirably, as I knew you would. No sense wallowing in the things we can't change, yes?”

I shrugged indifferently, ignoring the stab of regret that the near-mention of _him_ brought. They still didn't know for sure what happened to him. I hadn't been able to talk about it. But they'd figured out enough to know he wasn't coming back.

“Good, good,” Jonas went on, oblivious. “Now, tomorrow we have some land to look at as a potential location for your new court.” He looked around in distaste. “I want you out of this dilapidated pile of cinders as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, okay.” Personally, I didn't think the ‘pile of cinders’ that was what was left of Dante’s was all that bad, but he was right. We needed more room.   
Not to mention that living in a burned out husk of a hotel wasn't doing much for my credibility as a powerful influence in the magical community.

Jonas beamed at my easy agreement and patted me on the head before heading for the door. He passed Marco on his way out and they exchanged mutual looks of distrust and dislike. I sighed. Some things would never change.

Marco shut and locked the door behind Jonas and turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“That's a nice act you got going. Almost convincing.” He walked into the kitchen, peering back over his shoulder at me. “Almost.”

I followed after him in a huff, as I'm sure he knew I would. “What are you talking about? What act?”

Marco grabbed two beers from the fridge, popped them open, and handed one to me. He took a long pull from his bottle and narrowed his eyes at me over the rim.

“You think I don't know you better than that? You run yourself ragged all day, faking nice, doing as you're told like a good Pythia, but I know you. I see you. You're no more ok than you were before.” He paused. “Tell me what happened to the mage.”

I choked on the sip of beer I'd taken and Marco pounded me on the back as I coughed it out. I'd known they'd probably all figured out that he was gone, but I hadn't expected him to come right out and ask what happened. No one had, not in weeks.

I briefly considered deflecting like always, but dismissed it. There was no point. As Jonas said, there was no changing it. Pritkin was gone and nothing was going to bring him back. And after the way I'd left things the last time I'd gone to see him...there was no reason to keep it to myself anymore, because it wasn't going to happen again.

I motioned for Marco to follow me, and led us through the main room of the suite to the balcony, sliding the glass door closed behind us. I leaned against the railing and contemplated the view. It was Las Vegas on a Saturday night, and as usual Vegas had risen to the occasion in all its garish glory. The scenery was the same as always, yet completely different. Or maybe that was just me.

“Looks the same, doesn't it? Feels like it shouldn't, but it does,” Marco observed, taking the words right out of my head.

“Yeah, it does,” I agreed softly, not taking my eyes from the skyline. “He's gone. Dead. But you knew that.”

He turned to look at me slowly. “Wasn't hard to figure. How?”

“Demon council. Sent his soul back through his lifetime as punishment for helping me, basically. They gave me the tools to undo it when they realized we weren't a threat to them, and I failed. He's dead because of me.” Even I could hear the quiver in my voice and I hated myself a little because of it.

Marco sighed heavily. “Didn't know the mage too well, I'll admit. Didn't care for him much either. But I'm pretty sure he'd disagree. He knew the world we live in. Knew the risks of the job. He didn't want to be anywhere else. I'm betting he'd do it all the same if he had the chance.” I opened my mouth to protest but he held a hand up.

“I also know how frantic you were a few weeks ago. Disappearing all the time, chasing down the tears...that was all about him, wasn't it? I'm betting you did everything you could, short of dying yourself, to get him back. He couldn't ask for anything more.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We all know how he felt about you. He wouldn't want you suffering because of him. That's not what he died for.”

“But I don't want anyone dying for me!” I didn't know how Pritkin had felt about me, but I was pretty sure it wasn't what Marco seemed to be implying.

“He died in the line of duty, trying to make this world better. Safer. Not just for you, but for everyone else, too. You gotta honor that. And you don't do that by spending half of your day working yourself to death and the other half grieving, alone. You do it by living, and living well.” He put his arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head.

“That mage was a pain in the ass. Brash and reckless and annoying as hell. But he was a warrior, and a damned good one.” Marco raised his beer in the air. “And I'll drink to that.” He tipped his head back and finished the bottle.

******

I stepped out of the bath a few hours later, right as a certain ghost popped into the bathroom. I yelped and nearly dropped my towel.

“Jesus, Billy! We really need to work on your entrances.” I scowled at him and wrapped the towel more firmly around myself. He rolled his eyes.

“Relax. I've seen it all before.” His eyes swept over me appreciatively anyway.

“So not the point. What are you doing in here, anyway? I gave you a draw last night. Whatever it is can wait until I'm dressed.”

“Probably. But where's the fun in that?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Billy,” I warned.

“Fine. I just wanted to check in. See if you made a decision about Pritkin.”

“What decision is there? I fucked up. I'm not going back. The end.”

“Yeah, but what if he changes something? You spilled a lot of beans, Cass. That's gotta have consequences. Everything he did needs to stay the same so that you still have the demons on your side. You need to talk to him again.”

I stared at him blankly. “You know I can't do that, Billy. I can't go back there again. And if he was going to change something, he’d’ve changed it. We'd know.”

“Not unless you were going to go back and stop him. Maybe the power knows you will so you've already fixed it. Or something.”

“You know this time paradox stuff gives me a headache.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. I could already feel one coming on. “The power would've–”

“Cass, you can't leave things the way you left them. It's not fair to either of you. You made a mess. Go clean it up.”

“He _told_ me to leave! He wouldn't even look at me!” I said in outrage. This was ridiculous, especially coming from Billy.

“Because you dumped too much on him! What did you expect?”

“I don't know!” I shouted, then took a steadying breath. “I told him I loved him, Billy. I thought–I thought he'd react differently. I think I misjudged his feelings for me.” I felt the blood rush to my cheeks in embarrassment and looked away awkwardly.

“You think you mis– are you kidding me?” Billy looked at me incredulously. He kind of looked like he'd like nothing more than to smack me upside the head.

“You weren't there. You didn't see him brush me off, turn his back, demand I leave. He didn't want to hear that from me. He didn't want me.” I sat on the edge of the tub, feeling defeated and hurt and humiliated all over again.

“Cassie, if you honestly believe that that man wasn't head-over-heels stupid for you, you're a fool. A blind one.” He continued before I could object. “Just go back. Give him a few hours from the last time you were there. Let him process, and then go back. Make things right and say your peace, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life.”


	5. Chapter 5

  
I decided against shifting directly into his room this time, and settled for right outside his door. Barging in on him was probably not a great idea right now. I took several deep breaths, and raised my fist to knock.

The door opened before my knuckles made contact.

Pritkin was standing there, door wide open and one sneaker-clad foot already poised to exit. His hair looked even more disastrous than last time, as if he'd been running his fingers through it and pulling on it obsessively. He'd changed from his well-worn jeans and t-shirt into a pair of sweatpants and the old familiar hoodie, bulging with hidden weapons. He was positively buzzing with poorly-restrained energy.

“Going somewhere?” I asked archly, before I could stop myself. I was already feeling a bit breathless at the sight of him after so long without.

“What are you doing back here?” I was relieved to note that whatever anger he'd felt seemed to have calmed. His question was firm, but not without warmth.

“I, uh, need to make things right. Can we talk?” I held my hands up in surrender. “Just talk, I promise.” I tried to smile reassuringly, but it felt closer to a wince.

He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it even further, and sighed, stepping away from the open door to make room for me to walk through. He shut the door behind me and followed me in. I walked across the room toward the bed, noticing vacantly that the table was still strewn with leftover food and beer bottles.

We sat side by side on the edge of the bed and I tried to sort out what I would say to him. I'd wanted to plan ahead, have some sort of meaningful speech or declaration or _something_ ready, but I knew Pritkin would see through a prepared speech. He knew me too well, and the last thing I needed or wanted was to come across as disingenuous.

But what could I say? To try to sum up my feelings...to tell this man everything he's meant to me...everything he'd _continue_ to mean to me...it didn't seem possible. I knew this because I'd tried before, when there was still time. And I'd tried again last time I was here, in this room, and the response hadn't been favorable at all. It felt like a pretty big leap to take.

A leap. I remembered suddenly what I'd told him in that shitty bar in the Shadowlands. What I'd learned from my mother. How chaos was like jumping off of a cliff, not knowing what's at the bottom, and how that'd somehow given him the courage to turn from sanctuary at his father’s court to face the chaos and uncertainty of the demon council’s judgment. Pritkin had leapt off that cliff just for the _slight_ chance that it could earn him his freedom. Because some things, the big things, were worth risking everything for. _Take the leap, Cassie_.

I reached a hand out tentatively, and when he didn't pull away I placed it in his. He looked at our joined hands for several blinks and then looked up to meet my eyes.

My breath caught at the kaleidoscope of emotions I could read so easily in them; there was apprehension of course, but also curiosity and tenderness and what looked like the smallest glimmer of hope, and that was the most devastating of all. My stomach twisted in anxiety.

“I'm sorry for earlier. I understand now that I dumped a whole lot of disturbing information on you, and that wasn't my intention.” I paused and he raised his eyebrows and indicated that I should continue.

“I, um, I know it was a lot to take in. Too much. Obviously, you weren't meant to know...that.” I finished lamely.

He let out a humorless laugh. “Which part? The part where I'm dead in your future, or the part where you love me?”

I blinked. “The first one. Telling you was a huge mistake.”

He nodded. “Because of the timeline. I could change something by accident, and it could be catastrophic.”

“Not just because of that.” I squeezed his hand. “Because no one should have to deal with that knowledge hanging over their head. It was incredibly selfish of me, and...I'm so sorry.” I felt the first tear spill over, and he released my hand to wipe it away.

I looked at him beseechingly then, eyes brimming with more unfallen tears. I needed him to know this, and to believe it.

“The other part, though…” Those green eyes sharpened on mine. “I do. Love you, I mean. I have for a long time, I think. But it just seemed so impossible, and now of course it definitely is...and this is probably selfish of me to put on you too, knowing that there's no–”

Pritkin cupped my face in his hands then and silenced me with a soft brush of his lips. He pulled back slightly and pressed his forehead against mine, but it seemed the kiss lingered like something unspoken on my lips.

“I love you, Cassie. I have from nearly the very beginning.”

My breath caught and he kissed the fresh tears from my cheeks. My arms had found their way around his neck at some point, but he pulled away suddenly, standing up and then kneeling between my legs on the floor. He took both of my hands in his and looked at me with a fierce, bright intensity.

“I love you, as I've loved no one else in my interminably long life. Whatever decisions I made before, I'll make again, because every choice I make is with that love. And because you are worth dying for. Today, and tomorrow, and a thousand times over.”

I gaped at him. “But I didn't want you to die! I can't bear it! How can you – knowing me, helping me, _loving_ me, got you killed!” I was crying in earnest now, helpless to stop the tears tracing down my cheeks.

His gaze softened and he reached a hand up to my face again, wiping them away.

“No, Cassie. Loving you, and being loved by you, gave me life again.”

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything. I just stared into those bright green eyes hungrily, my own eyes darting rapidly between them, as if they'd be snatched away in the next minute if I so much as blinked.

“But you have to promise me something. You can't come back here anymore.”

I started to protest, but he cut me off.

“If you love me, truly, you have to let me go. I can't go to my death knowing that you're going to be putting yourself through this. Coming back here to see me like you've been doing...it's hurting you, Cassie. I've seen it in your eyes, worsening with every visit. Promise me you'll go on. Promise me you'll live, and be happy again.”

I thought about what Marco said, that to honor Pritkin I needed to live for him. Then I remembered what Billy-Joe had said, about everyone else in my life that needed me. They were all right, of course. I had a job to do, yes, but it was more than that. There were people that counted on me, that needed me and cared for me as I cared for them. I couldn't lose myself in my grief anymore. If I’d learned anything at all from this experience, it was that I had to do for them what I'd been unable to do for Pritkin, and let them in, love them, before it was too late.

Losing Pritkin was beyond devastating, but I could do this much for him, at least. If it made facing his fate easier, I'd stay away. I nodded soberly.

“Okay. I promise.”

Pritkin got back to his feet and sat beside me on the bed again, putting an arm around me and resting my head on his warm chest. I wrapped my arms around his waist and hiccuped, and he chuckled softly.

“You gave me new life too, you know,” I whispered into his shirt. The familiar scent of sweat and gunpowder was both soothing and heartbreaking. I breathed it in deeply, trying to store as much as possible into my nose and lungs. It would have to last me forever, after all.

He kissed the top of my head and I could almost feel a smile in it.

“Are you ready?” He asked softly after a few minutes.

I shook my head against his chest. “No. Could you...could you just hold me for a while? I need just a little more time.”

He didn't answer, but after a small hesitation he laid down on his side on the bed, pulling my back to his chest and lacing his fingers with mine to rest on my stomach. I tightened my grip in his, savoring the feel of his strong arms around me for the last time.

“One more hour,” I whispered, and closed my eyes.


End file.
